Jim - Four

Jim

            After another twelve hours in Hersch and Rebecca’s cave, I was ready to go insane. They wouldn’t let me out, no way. Too dangerous, Hersch said, but I’m not sure he would have wanted me to see the ghetto even if it was the safest place in the world. I don’t think he wanted me to see what went on outside. Maybe he didn’t want me traumatized by what went on above ground, but I think he probably didn’t want me to think less of him when I saw how much the ghetto needed the uprising that he refused to start.

            It wasn’t just being underground that was driving me crazy. Hersch must have known it was torture for me to sit three feet away from Rebecca and not be able to touch her. Hell, he barely let me talk to her. She offered me her stack of books, but that was about all the words we managed to exchange. Hersch settled himself firmly between us, pretty unsubtly revoking any blessing he had ever given us. He didn’t have to say it out loud. I could read Hersch pretty damn well, and what I was reading was “don’t even think about it.”

            Obviously, I couldn’t exactly focus on my book. I spent my day trying to steal glances at Rebecca from across the room. She was in much worse condition than two years ago, that much was pretty clear. But she was no less amazing, let me tell you that. Every time I looked over at her, she still seemed like an angel who couldn’t possibly really be sitting in front of me. Her skinny legs sticking out of an old pair of men’s slacks, her short unkempt hair falling into her eyes, her small hands clutching a thin blanket around her shoulders, I could barely take it. I knew it was the worst possible the time and the place to be thinking about something as stupid our history, I couldn’t help myself. She was a miracle. I could have cried when she left in the afternoon, headed for some other hideout, where I was absolutely not allowed to follow.

            Hersch wasn’t the only one stressing me out. To my aggravation, Peter showed back up in the evening. He brought food rations, which was about the only reason I could possibly be happy to see him. I did not like that guy, not one bit. Deep down, I knew my problem with him largely came from the fact that he seriously intimidated me. But still, I was not happy to have him around. He was so damn intense. He talked about the Resistance like it was some wild living thing that he commanded himself. He didn’t seem to keen on me, either. I spent the whole evening watching him sharpen his damn knives and mutter in Polish with Hersch. He made me so uneasy I turned in early and gave up the chance to get my eyes on Rebecca one more time before bed.

I didn’t like that Gabe had to go with Peter. Hersch was being ridiculous; there might not have been any room in the hideout, but I sure would have felt better if Gabe was with us. I radioed to him in the evening, but he didn’t have much to say. Everyone else seemed to think he was safest at Peter’s, but I just didn’t like it. Erich didn’t like it either, even if he couldn’t show that he was worried about Gabe. Erich was not handling any of this very well, anyway, but at least I knew we could trust him. 

I woke up in what I assumed was the morning, though I had no way of actually knowing the time, in a nightmare-induced cold sweat. My heart was pounding and I was breathing hard, and at first all I could remember was the fire. Fire like the explosion of heat that came with the bomb at Wellington’s. I was running, but my legs wouldn’t move fast enough. I the boys were running through the fire beside me, and Rebecca was holding my hand, pulling me along. But when I looked behind, I could see how far Hersch had fallen behind. We were losing him to the flames, but we couldn’t slow down. We kept running without him.

I cursed and sat up; the name of the damn ghetto was messing with my mind. I had had about enough of the hell imagery, thank you very much. I shoved off the sheets and got up to take a piss, reminding myself that a fire in this frozen wasteland was about as likely as Peter cracking a smile. There was no going back to sleep, even if it wasn’t really morning. I walked out of my closet and down the hall to Hersch and Rebecca’s room.

To my heart-stopping surprise, Rebecca was alone in the room. I just looked at her like an idiot for a minute, my eyes bugging out of my head, not even sure how to address her now that we were alone together. Hersch must not have expected me to wake up; he would never have left her alone with me otherwise. He wouldn’t make this mistake again, so I knew I had one opportunity to have Rebecca to myself. And if I knew myself, I would waste my one goddamn chance.

“Good morning,” she said quietly. Rebecca was at the table, sewing up a hole in a threadbare pair of pants in the light of an old gas lamp. Seeing her do something so domestic was seriously disturbing. I had never in my life seen her do anything that even resembled a household chore. Rebecca wasn’t exactly a housewife kind of girl. Still, I remembered her violent treatment of the cooked sausage the day before, and realized she was basically keeping Hersch alive on a day-to-day basis.

“There is bread left over from last night and a little water.” She rested her unsettling Abrahamson gaze on me. I tried to adjust to the feeling of having my soul stared at as I took the seat across from her.

“Where is, um…” eloquent and graceful as ever, I practically missed the chair and stumbled over my words, “where’s Hersch?”

She sighed and put down her needle, looking annoyed and much more like the girl I had fallen in love with. “Out on some damn thing with Peter. Food, I think, or maybe just intelligence on the soldiers. Something they do not like telling me about.”

“Oh,” I said, biting into the tough heel of bread. It seemed odd to me that they left Rebecca out of everything. She seemed plenty capable to me. “Why-” I started, then reconsidered how to begin, “can I ask why they don’t want you involved?” Rebecca furrowed her brow at me, and I tried to rephrase again. “I just mean, I know why they aren’t too happy to have me and Erich and Gabe around, but you’ve been here as long as they have. You know as much as them, you know?”

Rebecca considered this for a second. “They do not want me in danger, I suppose,” she answered neutrally. “They should be concerned for each other, not me. Peter and Herschel never worry for one second about each other.”

“Yeah,” I glanced sidelong at the glass of water. I didn’t want to be the one to drink the little water we had, but I was also about to keel over from thirst. I took a tiny sip before continuing. “What’s the story there, anyway? Berezovsky, I mean. What’s his story?”

She sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes agitatedly. “Peter’s story is too goddamn long for right now. He is a butcher, he is Herschel’s best friend, and he will kill you if you stand in the way of his damned Resistance.” She looked up at me, warning me with her eyes not to ask any more questions about Peter. “That should be all you need to know.”

There was a long silence while Rebecca restlessly put away her sewing. Honestly, I was proud of the fact that I had so far been able to produce I conversation that consisted more than “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.” I watched Rebecca as she sat down at the table again, keeping my mouth shut so the words wouldn’t come bursting out of me.

I tried to pick up the conversation again, when she didn’t say anything to me. “So, where were you last night, if they don’t like you being with the Resistance?” I had asked so many questions, I was sure I was starting to look like a human riddle.

Rebecca smiled a little and reached for the water. “Underground base,” she answered.

“Jesus Christ, how many headquarters do they have set up in here?” So far I had been to the secret eyeglass shop and the super-secret trapdoor headquarters. Where else could she possibly have gone?

“The underground is not the same as the Resistance,” Rebecca responded, looking exhaustedly at me. “The Resistance is in disrepair right now, but the underground is still helping people. Base is in the old Judenrat headquarters, where we have food and other smuggled necessities for those who need them. I would take you there, if Peter would not kill you for seeing it. It is a good place.” I wondered what Peter wouldn’t kill me for. “I put in time with the underground whenever I can. It keeps me sane, I supposed, when I cannot even go outside.”

I looked at Rebecca, the way her colorless skin stretched over the prominent bones of her face, and realized something. “You never go outside, do you?”

Rebecca snorted. “Rarely. Only when I absolutely must go somewhere the tunnels do not lead.” She shot me an intense look. “You do not understand how dangerous it is out there, James.”

“I know.” It was impossible not to agree with her, when she looked at me like that. “I was out there yesterday.”

Rebecca’s eyes lit up. “You were,” she remembered out loud. “Oh, does it look awful, James? Is it cold? Has it snowed?”

I looked at her, suddenly becoming as angry as I was sad. Hersch had no right to keep her underground like a prisoner, never even setting foot outside. She had come back to keep her impossible brother safe; the least he could do was treat her like a human.

“Do you want to see?” I asked.

Her face darkened. “I have seen. I do not need to see anything on those streets, James. Nothing outside is worth our lives.”

“You haven’t seen with me,” I answered quietly. “You brought me here to keep you safe, Rebecca, and I’m doing it.” I got up from my chair, remembering that I could usually only win arguments with her by pleading.

“James…”

“No, come outside with me. I hate that you’re locked up down here, all right? I hate that you came back here for Hersch and now you’re trapped in this hole all day. I hate that you have to hide and Hersch won’t let any of us out.” I extended a hand to her, trying to remember exactly how I had squeezed any romance out of my ineloquent brain all those years ago. “I am here for you, Rebecca, and if you come outside with me, I promise to keep you safe.”

Rebecca eyed my hand suspiciously. “We don’t go up the steps,” she conceded. She stood up, but she wouldn’t take my hand. I couldn’t help but smile. Rebecca gave me a disapproving look as we headed out the door and down the hall. When we reached the end of the blackened corridor, I opened the door for her like a goddamn gentleman and she stepped warily out into the snow.

            It was the first day of December, and it was snowing like a monster outside. I had been right to guess it was morning, though it was so dark you could probably have made the argument that it was still night. I could barely see Rebecca through the dark and the falling snow. She looked up at the sky.

            “The snow,” she said quietly. “I have not seen it in so long.” I could tell she was trying not to seem too overcome. Rebecca was not the type to let her emotions get the better of her. She bent down to take a handful of snow into her palm. “It’s so… real.”

            I couldn’t even answer her. In a million years, I never could have imagined I would be where I was right then, in the empty streets of the ghetto, staring at Rebecca through the snow and the weak light of dawn. I felt like I was in some cheesy movie, not really standing there with my feet turning to ice in the snow.

Rebecca dropped the snow, her bare hands shaking. She clutched her blanket tighter around her. No coat. I pulled off my jacket, a good wool coat I had brought from England, and put it around her shoulders, and Rebecca didn’t push me away. I saw my chance, and I took it. I left my hands on her shoulders. Rebecca looked sadly back at me. Her eyes seemed huge and sad now that her face was so thin. I touched her cold cheek.

“I love you,” I said quietly. I shouldn’t have even had to say it. Rebecca knew. This wasn’t like the first time I said it. Not stupid or spontaneous or scary. Just the quiet truth. A reminder, more than anything. I felt good and right when I said it.

“I know.” She put her hand on top of mine, closing her eyes. Something was wrong. I knew she wouldn’t say it back. “But I need you to be patient. This is not the place.” Rebecca wouldn’t look at me. She looked up the stairs, gazing up at the city around her. “This is not a place for love, James.”

I almost hated her for saying that. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she would bring me here and then tell me not to love her. Did she really not understand how much I needed to love her? How could she still not know that loving her was all I had? I couldn’t be patient. I couldn’t.

“Rebecca,” I said seriously, “I will take you out of here. I promise. Look at me,” I turned her head back towards me. “I promise to get you out of this place, if I have to carry you over the wall.” I hoped she thought I was being articulate and romantic. I had practiced saying this to her for years. I had promised it to the sky and to the ceiling of my bedroom every night.

Rebecca smiled, just enough to let me know that she believed what I was saying. “You will never carry me, James Banhart,” she said. “If we ever leave this ghetto, I will be running next to you.”

God, I loved her so much. She was stronger than I would ever be. I knew she was telling the truth: she would rather die than be weak enough to need carrying. I brought her face over to mine and kissed her. She kissed me back, but wouldn’t let go of the coat around her shoulders. I wrapped my arms around her to stop her from shivering. Right then, all I wanted in the world was to hold her close and keep her warm forever. I didn’t even feel stupid for acting like some dumb romantic in the middle of the ghetto. I just wanted to forget where we were.

I practically toppled backward when Rebecca shoved me off of her. I thought I must have missed something I did wrong; she seemed to have lost all interest in kissing me. “What?” I asked.

“Shh!” she hushed me. “Listen.” She motioned for me to duck my head, but she craned her neck to see up the stairs. At the bottom of the basement stairs, we were at eye level with the street. I peaked over the edge, despite Rebecca’s orders.

I don’t know how she heard it from so far away, but now the sound of heavy boots was close enough for people with human ears. Germans, more than one. After a few seconds, they marched into my line of sight, four of them. I ducked my head immediately, but it was so dark and snowy they never would have seen us. Luckily, they didn’t come down the backstreet. They stayed on the main street, stopped outside the housing complex across from our alley. When I looked back up, two were inside, and two were waiting with their backs to us and their guns pointed at the door.

“Oh no,” I heard Rebecca whisper. I put my arms around her, but she shook me off. She had snapped out of the oversentimental feelings I brought out in her.

The two soldiers emerged from the door after a minute, dragging with them a ragged, bearded Jewish man. Rebecca clasped a hand over her mouth, but I couldn’t do anything but stare. He was shouting in Polish, but the soldiers either didn’t understand or didn’t care. They shouted back in German and threw the man to his knees in the snow, shoving the barrel of a rifle against the back of his neck.

I didn’t watch them shoot him. If I were stronger, if I was like Hersch or Erich, maybe I would have been able to watch. But I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in Rebecca’s shoulder, keeping my eyes closed long after the shot rang through the streets. Rebecca watched, though. I couldn’t see her, but I could tell she kept her head up until the soldiers’ footsteps had faded down the street. Then she took a few deep breaths, untangled herself from me, and walked silently back inside.

Even though I was terrified to stay outside alone, I didn’t follow her right away. The man was facedown in the street; a halo of red stained the snow around his head. I had never seen anything like it: one minute he was alive, and then next he was gone. I bent over and retched, my vision clouding with dots. I felt sick enough to die.

As I turned to go inside, I heard an awful scream from across the street. I turned in time to see a sickly middle-aged woman fall to her knees next to the dead man. She was speaking Polish, so I had no idea what she could be saying, but her sobbing cries made me feel like my soul was dying. A pack of people followed her outside. Some stayed in the doorway, frightened, but some knelt next to her and put their arms around her. They stroked her hair and let her wail into their shoulders. A little boy appeared at the doorway, but someone quickly ushered him back inside.

I felt dead inside as I turned back towards the door. Rebecca hadn’t waited in the hall. I found her in her room, staring into the fire in the oven, stirring distractedly at something in a pot. I watched her for a second, thinking about the woman outside. I could only think, what if that was Rebecca?

“I radioed Peter,” she said quietly. “He will be here soon. Bartholomew was one of his best men.”

“Bartholomew?” I hadn’t considered that Rebecca might know who that man was.

“A bricklayer with permission to work outside on the wall,” Rebecca explained, just as coldly as before. “Passed through the wall everything he could get his hands on. Vital to the underground and a very good man. We need his wife Marianna and his little boy, Bartie, too. Twelve years old but small enough to slip past anyone.” Putting a name to the crying woman and the little boy made me feel even sicker. Bartie, named for his father, just like Hersch. Rebecca looked sharply up at me and met my eyes for the first time. “They left Bartholomew behind, yes?”

I opened my mouth, but absolutely nothing came out, so I just nodded. Rebecca didn’t do a very good job of hiding her disgust with my weakness. “Good. I knew they would not waste space in the hole for him. Peter will find a place to bury him tonight. Marianna is too sick.” She paused for another second, covering her mouth. I could tell she was losing her iron grip on her emotions. “Oh, God, the ground will be frozen.” Rebecca wiped at a tear in the corner of her eye. That was it. I managed to find my voice again.

“Rebecca…” I reached out for her, but Rebecca was having none of that.

“No!” She shoved me off, and I didn’t dare go after her again. “Herschel was right, James! You don’t know how it is here!”

Oh, God. Not her too. Without Rebecca on my side, I had no one who believed I was worth anything to the Resistance. “Rebecca, I’ve been with the underground on the outside for a year,” I tried to explain, though my shaking voice did me no favors. “I’ve seen people die before.” It was true, though I didn’t like to think about it.

Rebecca was unconvinced, if anything I made her madder. “But never like that,” she seethed. “You have never seen anyone die on his knees in the street, in front of his home, in front of his family. You would not have looked away if you had seen this before.”

“Listen, I…”

“No, you listen!” That was enough to shut me up. “You come here and tell me you will carry me out of this ghetto, and you kiss me like we are in some goddamn fairytale. You live in a dream, James Banhart. Well let me tell you, this is not Wellington’s. This is Piekło, and we are in danger. This is not a place to play our old games. This is a place to survive, do you understand?” Rebecca advanced threateningly towards me when I didn’t answer. “Do you understand?”

My throat was dry and my tongue was thick, but I knew she would probably hurt me if I didn’t answer her. “I do,” I croaked. Rebecca probably would have yelled at me some more, but just then Peter climbed out of the hole in the floor.

“Rivka,” he breathed. Rebecca whimpered and he wrapped his arms around her. It was about the first time I had seen Peter display an emotion that wasn’t rage or hatred. He didn’t look so intense or angry, when he had his arms around Rebecca. I felt my face get hot with unreasonable, ill-timed jealousy. Of course Peter was the one who understood her life in the ghetto. Of course she would rather take comfort from him than me. This wasn’t the time to get resentful, but I glared at him anyway. He’s Hersch’s friend, I told myself. He’s her friend. Rebecca wouldn’t have brought me here if he were anything more than that.

“I have to go see Marianna,” I was beyond relieved when Peter let go of her.

“I’ll go with you!” Rebecca followed him towards the door.

“Rivka, if the firing squads are out you have to stay inside. Bartholomew won’t be the last and probably wasn’t the first. You should never have been out there in the first place.” Peter caught me scowling at him and scowled back. “What’s this one doing here?” he asked bitterly.

I wanted to kick him, but I knew that was about the last thing that would make Rebecca feel better. I set my jaw and tried to sound as brave as I possibly could. “Whatever you need, Berezovsky. I’m joining the underground.”